Meet The Pop Star Of Songwriters

Justin Tranter on January 25, 2018 in New York City. (Photo by Jared Siskin/Getty Images for Warner Music Group)

He works with Justin Bieber and Julia Michaels, but Justin Tranter's path has been long, bumpy... and inspiring.

I was eager to learn how Tranter switched gears from theatrical frontman of punk group Semi-Precious Weapons to one of the most successful pop writers alive. He was honest about his obstacles as a musician in the LGBTQ community, and articulate in his activism as a board member of GLAAD. He invited me over to his backyard in Silver Lake and made me laugh for an hour. Here's our chat:

Ross: What was your first big break as a pop songwriter?

Tranter: I was lucky. I got my first single on a major act — Fall Out Boy’s “Centuries” — a year and a half into it, which is really fast. Then all of my songs with Julia Michaels started coming out — Selena Gomez's "Good For You," Hailee Steinfeld's "Love Myself," Justin Bieber's "Sorry," Gwen Stefani's "Used To Love You." It happened fast for me as a pop songwriter because of the ten years busting my ass in a band, meeting those people and building that rock credibility. The band is what got me in the door. Other pop writers like Dan Wilson, Butch Walker and Ricky Reed were also lead singers first.

Ross: In the rock tradition, songwriters tend to work in isolation. But pop writing is very collaborative. Was that a difficult transition?

Tranter: In the band Semi-Precious Weapons I got to sing, wear and say exactly what I wanted for ten years. But I don't think it's the best way to make art anymore — I think collaboration is always the smartest way now. So when I got into the pop world, my priority was asking, "How can I make everyone in the room feel good?" That transition was actually a lot more natural and fun than I ever imagined. It was a relief. You can do whatever you want because it's no longer about you. I'll be the pop star of songwriters — I can still go to the grocery store (laughs).

Ross: What’s it like in the writers room?

Tranter: All songwriters are known as “topliners” because the vocal goes on top of the track. So in the pop setup, it's me, another topliner, the artist and the producer creating a bed of music in Logic or Pro Tools. But roles change. So if I'm with Mattman & Robin, I handle the heavy lifting of the lyrics and melodic support. There are other songs where I write the chorus melody. Or if I'm with an artist, I'm trying to help them tell the truth — which can be more complicated that you can ever imagine because the whole world is watching.

Ross: So how do you get an artist to tell the truth?

Tranter: The most common way is to start talking about the artist's life, figuring out where the title is in that conversation. A lot of other people are melody-first or track-first. My preferred way is to know what the lyrical overarching concept is so everything else can tell that story. A couple of days working with Joe Jonas I thought, "This guy is a slayer of a singer, he's really funny, goofy and sexy. We need to write that." And that led to “Cake By The Ocean.”

But then I’ll get blessed when queen-of-the-world Julia Michaels walks in and sings, "Can't keep my hands to myself." We all got really lucky that day!

Ross: You and Julia are the prime example of a successful partnership in modern pop songwriting. In fact, you've become known as a team, almost like Rodgers and Hammerstein or Lennon and McCartney. How did that happen?

Tranter: Me and Julia just really liked working together. And we thought, “If they're always going to put two topliners together in a session, it might as well be with each other.” I was 33 when I met her, and she was 19. But she had already been here for three years, deep in the songwriting circuit. She knew who all the A&Rs were, and I was being schooled by this brilliant young woman. I realized that she had so many profound things to say, and my role was to help execute her vision. It’s been the most rewarding thing I've ever been a part of.

There's a huge respect for what we each bring to the table — I'm like the lightness, and she's like the deep, dark emotional side. I went to music school, and she's pure natural brilliance. But we both share this common feeling of coming from the feminine point of view.

Ross: Julia's a huge artist now!

Tranter: I think the world needed Julia to speak. I was encouraging Julia to put out music with her own voice on it because she has stories to tell. She's so brave in her lyrical honesty — it's disarming sometimes. I mean, the first line of her first single is "I'm jealous.”

Now because Julia's taking over the world, I'm speed-dating again to find new collaborators. I worked with Ricky Reed on the new Halsey single, and with Mattman and Robin for Imagine Dragons.

Ross: Your writing with Julia includes unusual words and phrases. I particularly enjoyed the "Bad Liar" episode of Switched on Pop where they analyze your choices. But whether it's "metaphorical gin and juice" or "overzealous" — these aren't words that 14-year-olds are used to hearing.

Tranter: When there's a metaphor happening, we always make sure the next thing you're hearing is extremely conversational. But when I'm working with Julia, it's just fun. Of course we should use these words! We're making music, it's not that serious. The only thing that's serious to me about music is making sure marginalized people are included in the story. But when there's a business drama on my phone and people are freaking out, I'm saying, "You guys realize these are songs, right? We're not surgeons."

Ross: Speaking of which, you're very active in the political struggle of the LGBTQ community. Why is that work so important to you?

Tranter:As a kid I was bullied the worst you could possibly be bullied. Everything that could happen, happened. But at home I was always really safe, so I always knew that I was fabulous and that they were dumb, mean and evil. I was this big, feminine ball of energy and my parents and brothers thought I was awesome. Having that was life-saving.

That's why I'm focusing on LGBTQ inclusion in the music business. When I was younger, knowing that Madonna thought being gay was okay meant there was somewhere for me to fit in and be safe. Because even though it's 20 years later, it's still just as bad.

Ross: It's still just as bad? I think there's a perception that since marriage equality, LGBTQ civil rights issues are now solved. How bad is homophobia right now in the music industry?

Tranter: The things I've heard as an artist were "Be less gay" and "Be less feminine." I've been on email chains with an entire label where they break down shots of a video second-by-second, analyzing where my hand movements were too feminine. Imagine how that feels. It's so dehumanizing. I was wearing six-inch heels and full makeup all day every day — why the fuck did you sign me? (laughs).

I have an LGBTQ friend who wrote a video treatment, and the label said, "We've already done the gay thing with you. It doesn't work." Gay thing? You'd never call it a “straight thing!” What does that even mean? You're viewing our existence as a gimmick.

I was doing meetings to be a judge-panelist on a singing reality show and they said, "There's never been an openly LGBTQ judge on any of the singing shows. So you can't be super gay." And they said it thinking it was an okay thing to say.

Marriage equality is very important — I don't know if marriage is for me, but I'm really glad I have the right to do it! But that's just the tip of the iceberg. We need to be treated as equals everywhere. It's the subtle misogyny, homophobia, racism that does the most damage. These people have no hate in their heart for me, but I'm not going to be the first person they think of for a job. I've overcome the majority of those obstacles, but it sucks. Why do I have to work six times as hard?

Ross: How can things change?

Tranter: To start, we should use more LGBTQ people in this business because we can make people a lot of money! I wish there was more opportunity for LGBTQ people to tell their own stories, be their own advocates and superstars. I signed an amazing woman named Shea Diamond. She's a brilliant singer, writer, and activist. A couple years ago I'd write a song about her, but now I realize I should use the privilege I have to empower her because Shea needs to tell her own story.

And if songwriters are writing for women, there should be a female co-writer in the room. Not only is it the right thing to do in terms of making things equal in society, but the music will be more honest. Young women will relate to it more when it's not a straight, white, 45-year-old man's version of what a woman wants to say — she’s speaking for herself. Honest art is better art. (continued on Page 2)

Ross: For many years you were the frontman of the subversive and popular rock band, Semi-Precious Weapons. You toured with Lady Gaga, signed to major labels and reigned over the New York City music scene. For those of us that never saw you live, walk us through a show.

Tranter: The band would play for about five minutes before I'd even enter, they would shred everyone's life, and I'd make a grand entrance. Or I was there the whole time but I'd cut myself free from a sparkly web. I'd take off layers of costuming through the show until I was wearing just panty hose and heels. Then I'd leave, put on a new insane costume, and do it again. Lots of booze being sprayed on the audience, and them spraying it back at me. It was over-the-top, debaucherous and theatrical.

Ross: Man, I want to be at that show. How did you get momentum going for the band?

Tranter: New York's a magical place and word can spread without it even spreading. Through MySpace we had a young fanbase so we wanted all-ages shows. I'd save up money and rent out a club called REBEL on 30th Street (now shuttered). The cool hipster clubs wouldn't even reply to me, let alone consider doing an all-ages show. So we built it ourselves.

Our fanbase was so rabid, and we got the support of media like the gay and lesbian section of Time Out. Our unabashed queer sexuality attracted a huge celebrity fanbase from very powerful women, whether it was Kate Moss or Lady Gaga. That helped us a lot. Women kept opening doors for me because men wouldn't.

Ross: And what did the band sound like?

Tranter: Sonically, AC/DC is an obvious influence.

Ross: Sadly, Malcolm Young just died this week. They're maybe the most white straight male band ever.

Tranter: Exactly, that was the gag. And lyrically, it was Courtney Love, Gwen Stefani, Ani DiFranco, Tori Amos, Stevie Nicks.

Ross: Those are all brilliant writers. So how did you transition from rock star to songwriter?

Tranter: The band's last album Aviation was more pop-leaning, but the label wouldn't release it. Fortunately Warner/Chappell publisher Katie Vinten heard it. She couldn't make the label release the album, but she could put me in sessions to write pop songs.

Ross: I don't understand. Why would a label pay for an album and then just shelve it?

Tranter: My dad would always ask me the same question. In any other business, whoever made that decision would be fired. You already paid an advance to the band and paid for the album to be recorded. I understand the hesitation if the PR campaign is going to cost $5 million. But even in that case, just put it out and make what you can! Everyone wants to complain that the Internet ruined the music business, but the Internet is the greatest tool since the wheel.

Ross: Then you moved to L.A. Do aspiring writers need to move there.?

Tranter: If you want to write pop songs, you have to be in L.A. You have to be here to get in the room, meet the people and make the connections. I started going to every room and I didn't know how to drive — I still don't! And in L.A., taking the bus is a three-hour process. I had been beaten down so many times that I was willing to try anything. I love failure. I think it's really chic and glamorous.

Ross: You now have several #1s and some of the biggest songs of the decade. Is it sobering to finally have recognition?

Tranter: First, it's really shocking. There were moments where I thought this was never going to happen for me. Second, there's that feeling of, "Fuck yes. I finally got here. I said I was going to do it, and I did it." Third, there's a beautiful realization that no one knows that it's me behind these songs, and I honestly don't care. And that came with age and failure.

Ross: Do you have a desire to produce?

Tranter: I don't even own a computer, let alone know how to produce on it.

Ross: Fair enough. And some pop songwriters are also starting to think about musical theater with the success of Hamilton. Does that interest you?

Tranter: I've written a couple of musicals in my life. We wrote one in my twenties where I played Madonna. I also co-wrote a teenage zombie sex musical at the Sundance Theatre Lab. Obviously Hamilton is a great inspiration for everyone, but Annie is the reason I wanted to sing.

Ross: Wrapping up, what are three pieces of advice you have for aspiring indie songwriters and musicians?

Tranter: First, work harder than anyone else you know. Second, be your version of bold. Julia's not a big personality or one-liner comedy queen like I am, but her boldness is embracing her vulnerability and honesty. Third, be really nice. People like to work with nice people. And also have fun. If you're having fun — in a session, in a meeting, in your life — people want to work with you. I know that's a cheesy theater school answer, but it's true.

Ross: And is there anything you want to say directly to aspiring LGBTQ artists?

Tranter:I would say to young LGBTQ people and to all marginalized people that it sucks. It's not fair that it's harder for us to succeed — but it can still happen. Our dreams do come true, and our point of view is mainstream. The more of us that succeed and are vocal about the obstacles we face, the better it will get. And there are allies. I'm living proof that there were straight people who saw my value and put me to work. So keep fighting, keep making art, and know our stories are just as powerful and lucrative as anyone else's.

Danny Ross is a music producer in Brooklyn. He met his wife on the subway and is one half of the indie band, Cheap Synths.